


Zuramaru's Cabin

by usermechanics



Category: Love Live! Sunshine!!
Genre: Cabins, Gen, Horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:15:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27462550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/usermechanics/pseuds/usermechanics
Summary: Hanamaru asks Yoshiko to help her out with something haunting her cabin.
Relationships: Kunikida Hanamaru & Tsushima Yoshiko
Comments: 3
Kudos: 9
Collections: Love Live Halloween Prompt Week 2020





	Zuramaru's Cabin

**Author's Note:**

> more late halloween stuff this time yohazura

There was just something wrong with this cabin.

It was the first impression that came to Yoshiko’s mind when she stood in front of it, its sinister aura amplified by the moonlight. It was a grotesque building, dilapidated at all corners with the grass around it coated in flakes of chipped off-white paint. The steps up to the mold-coated doorway sagged, with whatever furnish the wood once had washed away along with several other layers. As she stepped close, the smell of rot filled her nose overwhelmingly, her eyes watering as she fought herself to get closer. As much as she abhorred it, this was her job, and even as she had been told that this abandoned building was haunted, the least anyone could have done for this lakeside cabin was maintain it to some degree.

The only reason she had been here was her compatriot, now a few steps behind her, telling her about how she once lived there and heard voices. She had to admire her in some twisted way to be able to manage living in a shack like this, even if she had voiced the contrary and said that this was once a beautiful building. She was about her age—a young adult at youngest, granted their shared time in high school and kindergarten—and the neglect the building showed Yoshiko could only guess to be from centuries of being forgotten, not a fifth of one.

“Yoshiko,” she said. Yoshiko turned to face her, her wide, innocent brown eyes glowing as she hugged her plaid scarf closer to her round cheeks. She could feel the concern. “I don’t know what happened to it, zura.” She grabbed onto her yellow knit cap, pulling it down and covering whatever brownish bangs wanted to peek out from its purls.

“If what you’re saying is true,” Yoshiko said as she motioned towards the building, one that could easily double as a decrepit manor over a lazy summer abode, “then we have a serious problem on our hands.” She stepped forward, her boot digging into the mud. Her eyes widened; her almanac said the last weeks were dominated by sun. She could feel her hairs standing on end, tickling the inside of her flannel shirt, and a rush of heat went through her spine.

“You’re the only person I could trust with this, zura. Everyone else doesn’t believe in the supernatural but you…”

Whether her comment was supposed to be complimentary or derogatory, Yoshiko didn’t know nor did she care. She took it as a token of appreciation nonetheless, giving her a curt nod. “Zuramaru,” she addressed her, trying to hide the breathlessness as her toe slid across the mud. “I, the great Yohane, am well-equipped to tackle supernatural phenomena like this. I can assure you that whatever may be going on in here is nothing to be concerned about.”

Hanamaru brought a hand to where her mouth was underneath her scarf, trying to hold her laughter back, the same kind of objective mockery she had been used to. Yoshiko huffed; if Hanamaru was going to be so demanding of her help, why would she want to mock her?

“If you keep laughing, I won’t check this place for you!” Yoshiko gave Hanamaru an ultimatum which resulted in Hanamaru’s laughter dying down almost immediately. She wiped her tears from the corners of her eyes and gave a short apology, one that almost bordered on sarcasm. She turned around, rolling her eyes at Hanamaru’s attempts at antics, and headed towards the building, wishing that she had brought something to help her overcome the scent of the cabin.

As she grabbed onto a wooden guardrail that felt like it was splintering in her hand, she could have assumed the outhouse smelled better. Nevertheless, Yoshiko was light on her feet as she climbed up the stairs, disregarding the creaks and sounds of wood snapping beneath her feet. She gripped onto the rail even tighter, letting it practically snap in her hand. It was a miracle that she was able to climb up the three steps to the porch and navigate to the door.

As her fingers wrapped around the doorknob, she feared that the metal would collapse in her hand as easily as the wood before it had. Twisting the knob, she gripped onto it tightly, the last bit of refuge she had before she pulled the door open despite the pleads and squeals from the hinges. Yoshiko squeezed tighter, wishing she could open the door and plug her ears at the same time. Gone was the idea that she’d make a bombastic show of entering in front of Hanamaru; instead, she was fine settling for sneaking in the moment the door was open enough for her to slip in.

She thanked her metabolism, still incredible through all the junk food college life came with that she could pay with her paranormal detective agency, that she didn’t need to open the door that far open. She didn’t even bother to close the door; even in the late autumn chill, the outdoors was much more warm than the indoors.

The chill Yoshiko felt down her spine was immediate. It was like Hanamaru hugged her, but the warmth she felt was pure ice in its stead. She hugged her flannel closer to her, shivering. Even if the air was still and stale, it pierced through her clothes without any issue. What didn’t help was the feeling she felt in the pit of her stomach, one which warned her that she wasn’t alone even if Hanamaru was still standing outside.

“H-hello?” Yoshiko called out, outstretching a hand as she batted the air in front of her. Through the cold, she wanted to feel the supernaturality of the shack as it was, but it was far outside of her grasp. She nervously stepped forward, reaching into her pocket so she could grab her phone. She was thankful for its flashlight, but even her home screen, a picture of her dressed up in a gothic lolita dress, was enough light to fill the room.

The moment she turned on her flashlight, the door slammed shut behind her, and Yoshiko dropped her phone, denting the wooden floor as it hit the ground. The screen cracked, a slight indent right where Yoshiko’s neck was in her image. As she squatted down to grab it, she ran her finger along the indent, swallowing the lump in her throat as her fingernail was caught by it. Once more did she feel a chill running down her spine, and into her biceps.

Yoshiko fought the urge to drop her phone again, this time swinging the light through the room as she stood up. She squeezed her phone tightly.

“Who’s there!?” She almost yelled, moving her flashlight around so she could get a better look at the room she was in. Tucked into one corner of the room was a bed frame with a mattress topping it, perhaps the one part of the room that wasn’t as bland as it could have been. Yoshiko flashed her light along the walls, decrepit wood grain barely shimmering any of the light back to her. There were no pictures, no portraits, no anything that showed that this place was being used by anyone except for that bed in the corner, a bed frame that was conveniently a bit closer to Yoshiko on her second pass than it was on her first.

The roof creaked, but there was no sign of movement, not until a few seconds later where the entire foundation rumbled around her. Yoshiko planted her foot down, hoping that the floor underneath her wouldn’t collapse.

“It is I, the great Tsushima Yohane,” Yoshiko introduced herself to the lonely room, her words lamely echoing in the cabin before being swallowed by the wood. She hoped that it would open up a slight bit of communication, but as she brought one of her hands to her cheek, she could feel just how cold it was. She gazed at her ghostly-white hand.

“Yo—“

Yoshiko screamed at the sound of a low voice, one which remained unwavering despite her ear-piercing wail.

“Shi—“

Yoshiko took a few deep breaths, trying her best to stand as tall as she could. Even if she ruined her encounter with this ghost, she should at least try to be dignified. It didn’t matter if Hanamaru heard her scream.

“Ko—“

“Oh, come on! It’s Yohane!” She yelled at the ghost, only for the foundation to rattle once more, this time violently enough for some of the floorboards to break. Bits of the roof came falling down as well, a scrap of damp wood falling onto her head.

“Yoshiko,” came the deep voice again, and suddenly, the room fell even colder. A mysterious wind started to pierce through the room, leaving Yoshiko’s body to shiver and become covered in goosebumps. She put her phone in her flannel’s pocket, grasping desperately onto it as she pulled it closer to her. Even through her dark knit cap could she feel the breeze, and wherever she looked, the air came in that direction.

“You will die here, Yoshiko…”

Yoshiko’s knees fell to the floor with a thud, the wood creaking and snapping underneath. Maybe it wasn’t smart to be where she was anymore. It wasn’t smart in the first place, but this was too much for her to take. Anything else would have taken her over the edge. Out of all her encounters, this was by far the most terrifying, the most sinister. It felt like she was about to be attacked.

“I’ve already taken Hanamaru…”

“Leave Zuramaru out of this!” Yoshiko screamed, pointing her light at the walls, trying her best to find anything that could look like an apparition. “Make yourself known, you foul demon!”

Then, the bed frame tipped over.

That was Yoshiko’s cue to leave, screaming as she slammed herself into the door, grabbing the doorknob and turning it and pushing herself into the wood. The world be damned if she got bruised from her fighting the door, impervious to her attacks. After several slams into the door, it finally gave way, the hinges breaking as the door tipped and slammed into the porch and steps alike. Hanamaru was gone.

“Zuramaru? Zuramaru! Where are you, Zuramaru!” Yoshiko yelled as she ran around the place, trying her best to find where she could have gone. There was plenty of forest for her to search, and she wasn’t going to leave until she had proof that she was somewhere. She just wanted to see her one last time, even if it meant that she’d have to die and hope they ended up in the same afterlife.

The last place Yoshiko would expect Hanamaru to be was on the roof, laughing as she watched Yoshiko run around in terror. It was definitely worth paying money for the cabin and for Yoshiko’s “supernatural hunting service,” the tripwire, and bed frame.

“I wonder if she’ll believe in ghosts after this, zura…”


End file.
